Never Forget
by WalkInTheMoonlight
Summary: He moved forwards and caught her as her voice broke and she fell to the floor. He knelt and she buried her face in his chest, fingers clinging to his robes, tears soaking through to his skin. He held her until her sobs turned to ragged breaths, then to small sighs. Then she was quiet, just letting him hold her.


Inspired by the song "Never Forget" performed by Greta Salóme & Jónsi.

V

_She's singing softly in the night_

_Praying for the morning light_

_She dreams of how they used to be_

_At dawn they will be free._

Alayne sat in dark. She was perched on the soft cushions on the window seat of her room. Her forehead was pressed against the cold glass and she blinked away the tears that fell from her eyes, joining the drying ones on her cheeks.

She wiped away another tear and sniffed, sitting closer to the window, bringing her legs up underneath her, her long, heavy skirts pooling around her and draping to the ground. It was darkness beyond the window. When the sun was high she could see the clouds below, hiding the ground from her. It frightened her, made her feel like she would fall at any moment. But in this darkness, she felt safe.

She shivered and pulled her fur cover tighter around her and watched her breath dance in the cold air. Even with the windows closed and locked it was very cold without a fire. The Vale was always cold. But there was a part of Alayne that was grateful for it; it reminded her of a place long ago, a place a young girl with dreams in her head and a smile in her heart had called home.

She mourned the loss of that girl. The little girl who had hair and eyes like her mother's. The little girl who had sang to her sister while braiding her hair. The little girl who had played knights and princesses with her brothers. The little girl who had kissed her father goodnight and good morning. That little girl was long gone now, and she was beginning to forget.

Alayne ran her fingers through her dark hair and huffed, her breath watering to steam on the glass of the window. She looked at it with her head tilted to the side, then slowly rose a hand to it. Her finger traced a shape onto the window, and when she dropped her hand, she looked at the drawing of the little bird in flight.

_Little bird._

She winced as she heard that harsh, raspy voice in her mind. That voice was something the little girl, Sansa had known. Yet Alayne was the one to feel the pain in her chest and curl in on herself at the memory.

Memories Alayne had been told she must forget flooded her and her mask slipped. For a moment, she was that little girl again.

She sang softly.

Her song was a prayer, an offering to the Mother - to any god old or new who would listen.

She prayed for some light to her darkness. She prayed for an escape. For so long she had been fighting, fighting to return home. She prayed to be with her family, just as they had been.

She scolded herself for it, but often she prayed for her rescuer - for someone to storm in to her prison and take her away.

Her dreams had changed, instead of dreaming of a gallant knight on a white steed, golden haired and fair, in armor shining like the sun - she prayed for someone else.

In her fantasies, this rescuer was dark, like a shadow. Huge, strong and terrifying. His eyes were grey depths of rage and passion and he sat astride a huge black stallion. He would storm in, take her in his arms and kiss her with his scarred mouth. He would kiss the breath from her leaving her a shuddering mess. Then he would scoop her up, covering her in his blood stained cloak, set her before him upon his horse, and they would ride off into the darkness together.

Little bird, that is what he called her.

She had been told today that the Hound was dead. She had stood beside her father, Lord Baelish and heard the Elder Bother from the quiet Isle say so.

_"it is true, the Hound is dead - i buried him myself."_

The man that stood just behind him was also a brother. But he was tall, and his brown robes did little to hide his impressive body. The Elder Brother introduced him as Brother Digger. His face was covered and the little girl had stirred in her mind, something about this man triggering memories.

But the man stood there, looking straight ahead. He did not show any recognition, nor any familiarity with anything or anyone. It could not be him, Alayne scolded Sansa, stop your silly dreams, the Hound is dead, and you are alone.

She was angry with Sansa - with herself - for such foolish thoughts, but some part of her still had hope. She had hope there would be a light someday. That there would be some salvation for her.

V

_Memories they haunt his mind_

_Save him from the endless night_

_She whispers warm and tenderly_

_Please come back to me._

For years he had tried to forget.

With each time the blade of his shovel buried into the ground, he tried to forget.

His hands were rough and calloused from hours and hours each day digging grave after grave.

The quiet isle was to give him peace. His armor lay buried beneath the earth at the Elder Brother's command. The Hound was dead and buried, and Sandor could be a new man.

But his blood sang with the want to wield a sword again. Each day through his long hours of hard work he sweated and huffed and his mind was filled with the times he wore the white cloak.

Soon his thoughts drove him to anger and all he could do was wield the old, blunt sword and hack at a tree, venting his frustrations, screaming his rage until he collapsed to the ground panting.

It was the thought of _her_ that saved him time and time again. Many times when his world was consumed by the sing of steel upon steel, the suffocating warmth of his armor encasing him, the sting of sweat in his eyes, the tang of blood on his tongue. When he was fighting he thought to end it. Why not let the bastard win? Why not just die? Who would miss a miserable old dog anyway? He would be free of his master the boy king. He would be free from his rage at his brother, his parents, the people around him, and the world that looked at him in disgust.

But then her face would come to his mind. Her sweet smile, her sparkling blue eyes, her hair glinting like a flame in the sun. He would hear her gentle voice breathing his name and his entire being was charged with a surge of adrenaline. He would rain blow after blow, defeating opponent after opponent and continue on.

She comes to him in her dreams too. He dreams of her singing voice and her warm skin against his. He kisses her, wherever his mouth can reach. She sighs and sings and whispers sweet words to him. He buries himself within her and loses himself in her heat. He presses his scars into her neck and her arms come around him. Her fingers thread into his hair, nails scraping his scalp. She breathes his name out in ecstasy and he follows her.

As he wakes, stuck between that place of dreams and reality, he hears her voice once more.

Soft, sweet, she gives him a prayer.

_"Come back to me."_

V

_She mourns beneath the moonlit sky_

_Remembering when they said goodbye_

_Where's the one he used to know_

_It seems so long ago._

"i mourned you. When i heard the Hound was dead i wept, harder than i ever had. I was angry with you; i felt so alone, knowing that you had left this world i felt truly alone -"

He moved forwards and caught her as her voice broke and she fell to the floor. He knelt and she buried her face in his chest, fingers clinging to his robes, tears soaking through to his skin.

He held her until her sobs turned to ragged breaths, then to small sighs. Then she was quiet, just letting him hold her. He breathed her in, so long he had dreamed of doing this to her; just holding her. It was something he never thought could happen.

Her fingers played with the ends of his hair and he was reminded of hers.

He didn't know where his courage came from, perhaps it was because she seemed less afraid of him now, but he kissed her head and laced his fingers into her soft tresses.

She shifted in his arms and looked up at him, head rested on his shoulder.

"i liked your red feathers better, little bird."

She smiled and her hand came up to lace her fingers with his and he used his other hand to wipe away her tears.

"You've changed. Where is the girl from the North with dreams in her head. Calling me 'ser' and 'my lord' and fluttering her courtesies?"

Her smile faded, he meant to tease her, to make her smile and laugh again, hating seeing her so sad.

"I lost her..." her voice was quiet, broken.

He winced at the sound of her, all the horrible things that had been done to her had finally broken her it seemed.

He was at a loss of what to do. He wanted to cut away all her sadness from her. He wanted to hack at those who had hurt her and feel their life seep from them. He wanted to hear them scream and he wanted to heal her. But he was too broken himself, what could he do for her?

She sat up, eyes sparkling with tears. A strand of hair stuck to her wet cheek and he found himself brushing it away, tucking it behind her ear. He cupped her cheek with his rough hands and thought to pull away.

_That's enough, Dog. Do you think she wants you touching her so tenderly? This isn't one of your dreams. She will never want you like that._

But then she was leaning in to him and her lips were pressing timidly against his and his mind went blank.

Her kiss was soft, shy. She pulled away and he stared at her, dumb with shock and confusion. She smiled softly again and he traced the lines of her mouth with his eyes.

She leaned in again and something broke in him.

His hands were on either side of her face, touching her warm skin, soft and damp with her sorrows. He kissed her with all the feeling he had, wanting to consume her, devour her. She seemed to want the same.

Her hands wound around his neck, caressed his face, tangled in his hair and she moaned softly when he pulled her against him.

_Sing for me, little bird. _

She sighed into his mouth and he couldn't get enough of her. His hands touched her everywhere, feeling her small body beneath her dress.

She whispered his name softly and with such tenderness, tears pricked behind his eyes.

He collapsed against her, his turn to feel the weight of so many years apart.

She held him, sang softly to calm him and he clung to her like she was the very air he breathed.

V

_And when the golden sun arises far across the sea_

_The dawn will break as darkness fades forever we'll be free._

Petyr Baelish's bastard daughter mysteriously disappeared that night.

A brother from the Quiet Isles went missing also, but when the Elder Brother was asked, he would smile and simply say he had found his redemption and was free to live where and as he pleased.

Years past and winter came. The North fought and as always, survived.

They were led by the Lady Winter, she was called. She ruled with ivory and steel, much like her father. She was ever guarded by her loyal Dog, the Hound reborn, walking by her side with fire in his eyes and a hand curled around the hilt of his sword ready to protect his lady at all times.

More wolfs returned; the broken boy with the powers of old; the boy who had run with the wildlings; and the girl who had many faces and names, hunting with wolves and a bull.

And when the Dragon Queen came from the horizon, she shone like the fire of her children and came to break chains.

She took her rightful place on the Iron Throne, her dragons around her.

The Stark Bastard was revealed to be her nephew, now by her side as her trusted advisor and friend.

The North and the South built an alliance and the world was at peace for the first time in many years.


End file.
